


Tired of Being

by skylinesunflowers



Category: Annie (2014)
Genre: Alcoholism, Backstory, Gen, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:20:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27941405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skylinesunflowers/pseuds/skylinesunflowers
Summary: This is the fifth hallucination this month, and they’re barely even two weeks into November.
Kudos: 2





	Tired of Being

Colleen sinks back into her armchair in the too-full apartment and thinks she should call up her brother. She hasn’t heard from Daniel in years, years since she got her ass kicked out that foster home’s door and left him behind.

All she knows is that he’s unemployed and he’s with some girl called Lily. No, Colleen isn’t too ashamed to let people know that she Facebook-stalks her estranged brother.

As she watches, sipping from the bottle of arsenic she picked up from God knows where, the scene changes. The tiger-print clothes, her sweatshirts, the bottles, all gone. The apartment’s washed up, and she’s back there.

Rosalie Lyndon’s the owner of the group home. Owner, leader, whatever, but she’s a bitch and Daniel hates her and Colleen doesn’t know what to do with her. She doesn’t know what to do with him, she’s only fifteen and she’s drowning, drowning, drowning...

There’s a little, blonde boy cowering in the corner, and it’s Dan, except he’s not Dan anymore, he’s Daniel Hannigan, and his friends call him ‘Rooster’ and his girlfriend probably calls him ‘Danny’ in that blonde little voice, except she’s never had a blonde voice, it’s only other blonde girls.

His arms are red, and it’s not blood, even though he scratches them when he’s nervous, when he thinks it’s the end, when he thinks it’s over. He’s only eleven, he’s still a kid. They’re both still just kids, still new, still young and innocent.

She watched Miss Rosalie Lyndon slap him across the face and inhales sharply. It’s like watching a sick movie, some kind of a security tape that cops and government officials get to watch. Except she kind of knows that none of it’s real, and she can tell the difference between hallucinations and reality, even when she’s drunk.

Colleen reaches for the landline on one of her rickety tables and holds it to her ear. There’s a blonde girl who blocks him from the blow. An angry look on Miss Rosalie’s face. Miss Rosalie, God, she’s not fifteen anymore.

She still slams her eyes shut.

Next thing she knows, Colleen’s dialed up half her brother’s phone number and Lou’s calling her from downstairs. She takes a deep breath, wills herself not to vomit, and leans half out the window.

He’s talking, and he’s _saying things_ , and for a second, Colleen thinks she could be a better woman. A better person. She could make something out of herself. Be a mother figure, if you will. Anything.

She yells something at Pepper, grabs her fur coat, and leaves, even if she technically shouldn’t. It’s a night on the town. Not a nice night, but a night.

And, someday, Colleen’ll get the story out, and that lump in her chest will dissipate, and maybe she can have a chance at normalcy.

For now, she takes another sip and lets out a lone sob. Nobody hears.


End file.
